Letters To

Skipping ahead again. Last week, got to Burgos, and decided to spend a couple of days there. It´s a major cultural city for Spain, full of monments, history, and of course, the cathedral. There is a small alburgue, but when I get there, I find that they are only taking people over 55, or who have health problems, and who have walked. I took a bus a small distance because I was not well prepared to walk in the rain, and there were thunderstorms. So...I find a small hostal not too far from the cathedral. The manager, Elena, is very kind and even offers to wash my clothes. Wow! So, thus fortified, I wander Burgos for a couple of days. I find Doro, the young German girl I met on my first day climbing UP, and it is great to see her. Also, we encounter Rita, who had left to walk in the rain the day before, and had had some heart palpitations and had gotten a ride. Astoundingly, the alburgue refuses to let her stay because she did not walk (even though she is 71!!!), so I lead them both to my...

When I walk up to the refuge off the road, I see that there is the building/restaurant/refuge on the right, and across the road is a a covered terrace/eating area that overlooks the steep cliff/drop off the mountain that I have just climbed up. At 4:30, the sun is just starting to slant down, and the light is exquisite. Even in my exhausted state, I can appreciate it, and am that much more greatful to be there, because I did NOT want to be walking after dark, even on a paved road. When I go into the restaurant area, it´s empty except for one woman who is probably the owner. She looks at me and says "Linda?" Yes, it´s me, and thanks again to my French friend who confirmed my reservation! Immediately, I pull out my pilgrim´s credential to be stamped and pay for the room. 18€ for the bed, meal, and breakfast in the morning. Wow, can´t beat that, even if it did take me all day to get here! I also tell her that I KNOW I will not be able to walk the full 21 kilometers left...

So, you think you´ll go on a pilgrimage and it will be a time of contemplation, meditation, and possible spiritual growth. Sounds pretty good, right? Of course, you know there will be challenges, but, hey, you think, that´s part of it. Wouldn´t be a "real" pilgrimage without that, would it? It´s taken a while, but I think I have gotten into the "pilgrim´s routine". When you are a pilgrim, here´s what your normal schedule is like: Somewhere between 6 am and 6:30 am you officially wake up, because normally you must be out of the alburgue where you have stayed by 8:30 at the latest. Immediately, the rustling of plastic bags begins. It´s like the surf coming up at high tide as everyone begins to gather their belongings, stuff their sleeping bags, and stumble to the bathroom, which is normally at least 100 meters away from where you are sleeping. The morning packing is very important, because packing wrong can throw off your whole day. So, wash off, put on the clothes yo...

Sunday morning dawns, cloudy, cool, damp. The guy above me snored loudly all night, and once made some kind of odd noise, and jumped down off the bed and stomped around for a few minutes. He was very strange. But, at any rate, he is the first one up and gone. I don´t see him again. Next goes the gentleman from Quebec, again quietly up, dressed and gone. It´s about 7am, and the young American couple get up to go downstairs to have breakfast--that they have bought themselves the day before, and put in the fridge, with the landlady´s permission. Suddenly, there is a huge commotion downstairs and the landlady comes flying into the room screaming French in a stage whisper. She tears the couple´s things off the beds, and starts pushing them out of the room. Everyone else is still half asleep and can´t figure out what´s going on. To the best of my ability, all I can figure out is that she´s saying they are up too early (not before 7am), in the kitchen too early, and making too much ...

Once again, before I continue with narrative, I want to stop for a moment and send out a written and formal "thank you" to those people who have helped me or tried to help me along The Way. First of all, to the lady on the train to Bordeaux who had had major dental work, but did her best to talk to me anyway and tell me where I should get off the wrong train and turn around. Thanks to the bartender in Bayonne, who knew I needed a room with a shower. To the agent in the pilgrim´s office in St. Jean, who called to the alburgue in Orisson, even though she thought it would be filled up. To Ari and Lisa, for finding me to say good-bye, after your "event" in the alburgue in St. Jean. To Trish from Ireland for the sunscreen--it´s been a lifesaver! To all the day hikers and other pilgrims who asked about me as I inched my way up to Orisson from St. Jean. Your concern about my having enough water, and generally being okay was what kept me going on that utterly exhausti...

When I got back to my room from wandering around, it was full of folks. In one bunk were 2 gentlemen, one from Quebec, and one who I never did find out where he was from--he was very quiet. In the trundle bed was Sabine from Switzerland, who was walking alone and missing her 3 year old daughter. In the bunk above me was a man from the Canary Islands. He spoke Spanish, but I never did get his name. Across in the other bunk were Ari and Lisa, a young American couple who had been married the year before, but had been saving their money for over 3 years in order to travel around the world for a year. I was pretty impressed with them. They were were on 8 months of their 12 month journey, and had spent the last months before Spain in the orient, China, Viet Nam, etc. After I met most of the folks, I wanted to walk around again, but "off the beaten path". Well, there isn´t much of a beaten path anyway there, but when I was walking on the main street, I saw a turn off and w...

Today is Sunday, September 15 or 16, I am not sure. Skipping ahead in the chronology, because it was just a plain old slogging hard day. We left Puente la Reina this morning around 8am, found an ATM because I was totally out of cash, but I did not want to go back into the town last night because our alburge was on top of a MOUNTAIN, and no way was I climbing that hill again just for some money! You really know what´s important on the Way, and what was important was resting and having dinner. I had enough to pay for that, and that was enough. This was maybe the hardest day yet, even tho I haven´t written about my first adventure, which I thought was the hardest, but today was HOT, and rocky, rocky rocky. There are more rocks in Spain than just about anywhere I have ever been. Not pebbles or stones. ROCKS. All in the middle of the path and all the paths are uphill. Even when they are down hill they are uphill. Here, when there is a hill, they just put a path up over it. No swit...

So, we arrive in the early morning, around 9am. It´s cool, cloudy, misty, very damp and humid. I am about to experience something that happens to people who live in dry climates when they go into damp climates--projectile sweating. As I step off the train and begin to follow the other people who have come to the same place for the same purpose, I am aware that every pore in my body is attempting to rid itself of excess moisture at a great rate. I suppose this happens all the time, but since I normally live in a very dry climate, it just evaporates into the air, and I don´t notice. Nothing evaporates here. Everything is saturated with moisture. It´s not really raining, but it might as well be, as moisture is seeping out of everything, including me. I´m not really sure where to go, but since most of the pilgrim type folks are walking in one direction, I decide to follow them. I end up walking with a young man who might be German or Polish, and we chat for a moment until we turn ...

Today writing from my alburge (pilgrim hostel) in Zubiri, Spain. How I got here is another adventure. First, I have to describe my journey to St. Jean Pied de Port, where most people begin the Camino if they are going to go ¨the whole way¨. Since I had missed the train the day before, I was determined not to this morning. I had another wonderful shower, said goodbye to my little room, and headed across the street to the Station (Gare). The ticket office was already open, so had my billete in good time, and got a cafe au lait and croissant from the little place across from the office. After that, I negotiated the cave to the bathroom, and thus fortified, I decided to just wait at the train platform, since I already had that information. For a while, there were no trains, then one with only 2 cars pulled up at the platform and stopped. It sat there. Should I get on? Was that the one? The numbers were different from the ones on my ticket. What should I do? Then, I began to no...

Today is Monday, Sept. 10, and I am writing from Roncesvalles, Spain. I´m on a timed computer, and I don´t think I have access to another internet screen, so I don´t think I´ll have any links here, but if you´re interested you can Google any of the places and see pictures and find out more. Anyway, on to the adventure. Friday, I found my bus to Stansted after a ¨dry run¨ and got to the airport in good time. I´d never been there before, but it´s small, and easy to get around in. The only thing is, the gates are like the train platforms in London. They don´t really tell you what gate the plane is going to be at till almost before it arrives. So there are these screens that you keep watching to see your flight has been assigned a gate, THEN you run down to the gate to wait. Also, I flew on Ryanair, which has ¨free seating¨in that it´s first come first serve. Some people had ¨prioritý¨I didn´t, but again managed a asile seat with no one inbetween. Everything was on time and fine....

Thursday afternoon here, and only about an hour before we leave to go to the Royal Albert Hall to hear a symphony concert that my friend, M., got tickets to for us. Don't forget to click on the links, as I have no way to post photos, and that's the best way I have to show what I've been doing. This will be a "quickie" as I leave the house very early tomorrow to get my bus to the Stansted Airport for the flight to France. After today, I have no idea when or where I'll have access to a computer. For our walk, we found our way to the Millenium Footbridge, and thence to St. Paul's Cathedral , where our walk started. We met our guide, paid the fee, and as we set off just then, we were suddenly surrounded by the pealing of cathedral bells. Graham, our guide, explained that only on 1 Tuesday evening per month, the St. Paul's Bellringers practice--and we were hearing it. I have to say, it was pretty incredible, as we walked through narrow lanes and mews, foll...

I don't know why London fascinates me. Since I have lived in Colorado, I have come to be uncomfortable in large cities, or even in large groups of people. But I love London, and have since the first moment I stepped out of Victoria Station in 2000, when I brought my mother here, onto the busy, crowded, crazy, dirty, smelly streets of this city where humans have lived for over 20,000 years. Perhaps this is just a place on the earth where people OUGHT to be. Whatever the reason, this city owns a little piece of me. I don't want to live here, but I will never pass up an opportunity to visit and merge with the pulse of this place, if only for a day or two. The last 2 days have been affirming. I was going to say "wonderful" but that word is too generic. Which is not to say the past 2 days haven't been wonderful, indeed, they have, but there's also a deeper significance to them as well. It took me a while to settle on my time of travel for this pilgrimage....

Well, here it is. The culmination of years of thinking, planning, organizing, wondering, questioning, worrying, obsessing, and whatever other "ing" verbs you might want to put in here. I leave tomorrow. I think I'm ready, at least as ready as one can be on the eve of this voyage. Yesterday, G. and I went down to our favorite store and got henna tattoos of the scallop shell on our left upper arms. Today, mine is much darker than it was. I hope it will last at least until I actually get ON the Camino. Had my last Spanish lesson yesterday. Many thanks to my wonderful maestra, K. She's a jewel. Today's card was very interesting. At first, it didn't seem to fit, then I read this: "...this card is not about being a workaholic. It is about all the ways in which we set up safe but unnatural routines for ourselves and, by doing so, keep the chaotic and spontaneous away from our doors. Life isn't a business to be managed, it's a mystery to be lived. I...